


Setting Fires

by LindsayBay



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Drug Use, Exhibitionism, F/M, Masturbation, Merle Dixon Smut, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Spanking, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 15:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13169379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LindsayBay/pseuds/LindsayBay
Summary: Delia's mother warns her against getting involved with Merle Dixon, but sometimes a girl has to make her own mistakes. Smut, angst, drama.





	Setting Fires

**Prologue**

 

This was not a peaceful night. Too many hungry, thirsty, terrified people at their breaking points. Horns honked; men shouted threats; women tried to shush screaming children. It was all punctuated with gunshots.

The man walked away from the highway, where no car had moved for hours. “Need me some fresh air,” he told his companion. He found his way to the lip of a ridge that gave him a view of the city, which was far darker than usual. He sat down and dug a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket.

He was flicking his Confederate flag lighter open when the sound of the planes penetrated the general cacophony. Fire bloomed in the city and he sucked in his breath. The flames spread like water, growing large enough to light up the night for miles; the city was being sterilized. 

The man’s face sagged, aging decades in a moment. "Merle,“ a voice said raggedly from the trees. Slowly and deliberately, the man lit his cigarette and flipped it into a hummock of dried grass.

 

**Part 1: Moth to the Flame**

 

“Hey, how’s my favorite daughter?” Delia’s mother greeted her at the door with a forced smile.

“Your only daughter,” Delia replied, completing the old family joke.

Her mother’s eyes were tired, full of all the things that Delia was sure she wanted to say.  _You were the first McPhee to go to college. Thought you were special. Said you’d never come back here. Got yourself expelled after one year and now look where you are_.

Delia dragged her duffle bags in, noting that the house looked even worse than before. Her dorm had been considered a campus shit-hole by most students, but it was a vast improvement on where she’d been living for most of the previous decade. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s out back with the Dixon boys. Merle’s got himself a new toy.”

“Merle’s here?” Delia dashed out the back door and saw the three men standing around a Triumph motorcycle that had been taken apart. It never failed to amaze her, the amount of time men spent staring at motorized vehicles and nodding. “I’m home, Daddy.”

Delia’s father looked at her without really seeing her, as usual. Daryl was doing his patented twenty-first century James Dean thing, slouching against a fence and smoking a cigarette; he greeted her by tilting his chin. Merle’s broad back was to her, and he was wearing the vest with the wings, the one he started wearing when things started to go bad.

Once upon a time, Delia’s dad and Merle and most of the men she knew wore black leather vests with a patch on the back that was a skull-shaped confederate flag. The rocker patch above said Rebel Yell, and the bottom rocker said Dixie. To the right was a small patch that said MC, for motorcycle club. On the left was a diamond-shaped ‘1%er’ patch that let the world know that they weren’t citizens who liked wear black leather on the weekend, they were  _outlaws_.

Delia remembered the last good days of the Rebel Yell Motorcycle Club. Everyone in town was so polite to her family. They lived in a ranch-style house with a new swing-set in the yard. Every birthday, Delia’s mother threw her an extravagant party, and every Christmas she had a huge pile of presents under the tree. The club was like a big family. Every one of the men was like an uncle to Delia, but Merle was always her favorite.

Delia’s mother liked to say it was the alphabet that ruined their lives: FBI, DEA, ATF, RICO, IRS. Almost every man in the club ended up doing time. Delia remembered the night that her father made a bonfire in the backyard, and the men tossing their vests in the fire. It was the only time Delia had seen tears in her father’s eyes; it could have been the fumes from the burning leather, she supposed. Most of the men served their time together in the same Georgia prison, but for some reason her father was shipped to an out-of-state super-max. Something happened to him there, and he came back a broken man, not good for much of anything at all.

Merle had come out of prison pretty much the same, though. Delia had made him an Easy-Bake Oven cake to celebrate his homecoming, and he’d eaten the whole thing, claiming that it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. If that wasn’t proof that he loved her, nothing was.

He turned around now and grinned at her. “Hey, Princess!”

_Princess_. She surprised herself by feeling disappointed. It was the same pet name he’d called her since she was born. Why not honey, sweetheart, darlin’, or babe? Because he still thought of her as a little girl, that was why. Still, she smiled back. The name was a sign of how much he’d always doted on her. “I ain’t got no girls,” he told her many times, “Just boys, and they all live with their mamas. Good thing I got you.”

Jesus, he looked better than she remembered. Those blue, blue eyes looking at her were making her feel a little light-headed. She’d fooled around with some boys at college, had even lost her virginity, but she didn’t really enjoy it. Now she had an epiphany: it was because not a one of them was at all like Merle.

He didn’t have a shirt on under the vest. Delia knew he was the same age as her father, but he was in great shape. Her eyes took in the arms, the shoulders, the chest… the muscles. He even still had those indentations on his hips, those lines that the girls in her dorm had called cum gutters. She was tall enough to look him straight in the eye, but she knew he could pick her up and carry her over his shoulder like she didn’t weigh any more than a cat. It was a strangely exciting thought.

Merle held out his arms and Delia walked into the hug. She’d always loved his hugs, up against his broad body with those strong arms around her, but the feelings she was having today were something new. Setting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes, she breathed in, smelling leather, motor oil, fresh sweat, and an earthy scent that was uniquely him. Her heart sped up and she started to feel slightly overheated. Opening her eyes again, she noticed Daryl squinting hard at her. She glanced at her father, but, as usual, he wasn’t noticing much of anything. Reluctantly, she backed out of the hug.

“When’s the 'welcome home’ party gonna be?” Merle asked. Delia’s father shrugged. “There’s gonna be one, right?” Another shrug. Merle patted Delia on the shoulder. “There’s gonna be a party. Saturday night. Don’t worry about a thing, Princess; I’ll take care of it.”

“Delia!” It was her mother’s I-want-something-right-now voice. “You gotta run to the corner store and get me my Coke." 

“Better go get your mama her Coke. I know how she gets when she don’t have her caffeine.” Merle gave her a final pat on the shoulder before walking back to the motorcycle. “Think we can get that ‘69 motor in it tonight, Daryl?”

All through her drive down the hill, the trip into the small grocery store, the drive back up the hill. All through helping her mother make spaghetti with meat sauce and set the table and wash the dishes and make sure her father took his meds. Every moment it was in the front of her mind: the fresh, new way she was feeling about a man she had known all her life.

 

Delia’s room wasn’t actually a bedroom but a pantry with just a curtain separating it from the kitchen. She changed into a mini-dress from Free People. It was the prettiest thing she owned, trimmed with white eyelet and silver beads. She had 'liberated’ it from her roommate, the stuck-up girl who had gotten everyone in the dorm calling Delia 'white trash Barbie’. She accessorized it with a pair of electric blue cowboy boots from the thrift store. Knowing that valuables had a way of disappearing during parties, she stuck her driver’s license and money down one of her socks.

She lined her eyes and glossed her lips cotton-candy pink. The air was heavy and humid, so she pinned up her long, strawberry blonde hair. With her small hand-held mirror, she really couldn’t see how well everything worked together. She just hoped that she looked grown up enough that Merle would stop thinking of her as his little princess.

Out in the yard, her mother was setting out a motley assortment of chairs that had been borrowed from friends and neighbors. A beer keg cooled in a wash-tub full of ice. A boy she’d graduated high school with was setting up a laptop and speakers. He looked her up and down and up again, eyes landing finally on the dress’s deep vee neckline. "Looking good, Delia.”

Delia smiled, walking away with a swing in her hips. She couldn’t wait for Merle to see her. Where was he? She could see Daryl slouched on the picnic table, ignoring a group of women who threw glances at him and giggled. Her father stood with a cluster of men, but none of them were Merle. He’d organized the damn party. Where was he?

Delia found herself cornered against the garage by a woman that she knew only as Chatty Kathy. “Heard you washed out of college. I coulda told you. That’s no kinda place for people like us.” The woman rattled on and on, a malicious gleam in her eye.

“I need to–go.” Delia pushed past the annoying woman, only to get caught in a nearly identical one-sided conversation with the old man who lived in a camper van across the street. Tommy the Tweaker and his track-marked girlfriend put their two cents in, as did the woman from down the road who made her living as a lot lizard. This was turning out to be less of a 'welcome home’ party than an I’m-beside-myself-with-glee-you’re-stuck-in-this-shithole-with-me party.

The music started. Lynyrd Skynyrd. “Turn it up!” yowled a shirtless man who was already three sheets to the wind.

An hour later, there was still no sign of Merle. “He set up this whole pain in the ass party but ain’t here to help,” her mother complained bitterly. “Yard’s gonna be a mess.” A bunch of crushed Solo cups could only improve the appearance of the collection of weeds that her mom called a yard, but Delia didn’t say so. Her mom’s mouth had that tightness around it that meant she was seconds away from pure rage.

Delia headed for the keg. She didn’t really like beer, but it was ice cold and felt good going down on such a hot evening. She walked to the corner of the yard with the rotting woodpile so she could be alone. That was when she heard the rumble of a motorcycle. She turned. There he was, finally, silhouetted by the setting sun. He turned his Triumph into the driveway and dismounted. Tonight, he wore a tan shirt under his vest, along with a pair of military surplus pants. Her chest clenched at the sight of him as he strode toward her.

“Hey, Princess. How’s the party goin’?”

Delia pasted on a smile. “Good.”

“Not drinkin’ too much of that beer, are ya? Skinny thing like you can get puking drunk quick.”

She was half-way through her drink and already felt a little fuzzy, so he wasn’t wrong.  "Nah, this is my only one.“

Angry shouts came from behind the house. "First fight of the night?”  Merle asked.

“Third.”

Merle chuckled. “Some things never change.” He slipped an arm around her waist. “Come on, let’s sit on the porch swing like we used to.” The touch his hand on the side of her stomach made her entire body come to attention. Their hips bumped as they walked up the porch steps. Merle sprawled on the swing, looking up at her and grinning. “This is where we used to play Horsie. Too bad you’re too big for that now.”

When she was small, she would sit on one of his legs as he bounced it up and down and shriek, “Faster, horsie!” Now she imagined sitting on one of his muscular thighs–-no, straddling his thigh while he held onto her hips and made her bounce. The thought gave her a feeling like an electric shock between her legs. She slammed the rest of her beer and tossed the cup into the yard.

Merle cocked his head sideways. “You’re all grown up now, aren’t ya? Looking at ya now, it’s hard to believe that I used to take you over my knee and paddle you when you were bein’ a brat.”

The mental image formed instantly: Merle pulling her down across his lap, lifting the skirt of her dress, pulling down the fancy peach lace underpants she was wearing, and slapping her ass as she squirmed and cried out. It felt like all the blood in her body was rushing into her face and her groin. Did he know what he was doing to her? Was it on purpose?

A song by the Who was playing.  _Don’t cry. Don’t raise your eyes. It’s only teenage wasteland_. She hadn’t eaten much that day, and the beer was having an effect. She closed her eyes, lifted her arms above her head, and began to sway. She twirled just fast enough to make the skirt of her dress bell out. Opening her eyes, she saw that Merle was watching her with his lips slightly parted. She felt her nipples harden and she arched her back so he would see them outlined against the fabric of her bodice, suddenly feeling shameless.

His tongue darted out and touched his lower lip. “What are you doin’, darlin’?” he asked in a soft voice that sounded like a purr, prompting a surge of heat between her legs. On impulse, she threw herself down on the swing next to him.

_Crrrackkk_. Wood splintered and the swing’s chains tore out of the porch roof, taking a good-sized hunk of wood with them. The swing hit the floor and the back snapped off of the seat, leaving them both lying flat on their backs. They lay there in stunned silence.

Delia giggled. Merle whooped.

“I’m so glad you two think tearing my house to pieces is funny.” Delia’s mother was glaring down at them, hands fisted on her hips. They only laughed harder. “You will clean this up or I will put sugar in your gas tank, Merle.” Delia’s mother stomped off. When their laughter started to taper off, Delia made the mistake of turning her head and glancing at Merle and they started laughing all over again, so hard that Delia’s stomach muscles ached.

Merle tilted his head so it touched hers. Their laughter slowly subsided and Delia wiped tears from her cheeks. “Should we be able to see right through the roof?” she asked. They stared up at the slice of the full moon that showed through the hole, just the sides of their heads and their hands touching. “Merle, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“When you were in the Marines, you got out of this place. Why didn’t you stay gone?”

“I only went to Kansas. At least we got hills and mountains here. Kansas is nothing but flat. The prairie dogs throw themselves under cars on purpose because they’re so goddamn bored. Is it really that bad here?” He bumped a foot against hers.

“You know what the kids I went to school with called this neighborhood? Trash Town.” Delia sat up. “Merle, I need to go.”

“You’re moving away again? You just got back.” He stroked her hand with his pinkie. “I was hopin’ you’d stay.”

“No, I mean… Take me for a ride. On your Triumph. I just need to move. I feel like I’m ready to jump out of my own skin.” She turned on her side and looked into Merle’s eyes. He blinked slowly and she noticed how surprisingly long his lashes were. “You get me?”

“I think I do.” They stood up and tossed the pieces of the swing off the porch, then headed for the Triumph. Merle got on first, and Delia hitched up her dress and climbed onto the bitch seat behind him. “Watch the pipe when it gets hot. Don’t wanna scar that pretty leg of yours.” Delia had to spread her legs wide to straddle his lower back, gripping him with her thighs, and it made her nipples hard all over again. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned forward, resting her chin on his shoulder. His beard stubble rasped against her cheek.

As the motorcycle picked up speed, Delia felt the pins being pulled from her hair as it unfurled behind her. It would be a snarled mess by the time the ride was over, but she couldn’t begin to care. Faster, faster, faster, the speed keeping pace with her racing heart. She raised her arms in the air like she was on a roller coaster, exhilarated laughter bubbling out of her. The beer was burned out of her system now; this elation had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with speed and hormones.

They slowed when they came to a stretch of road with bends that skirted hills and a string of small lakes. The bike leaned as it took the curves and she put her arms around Merle again. A chorus of frogs sang so loud that she could hear them over the Triumph’s motor. The moon lit up the lakes with its brilliance.

Merle sped up when the road straightened out again. Delia started unbuttoning his shirt. Underneath he wore a ribbed undershirt. She pulled the front of it free from the waist of his pants and put her hand underneath. “What are you  _doin_ ’ to me, girl?” she heard over the wind in her ears. His stomach was firm and lightly furred, slick with sweat. Her hand moved upward, stroking his pecs. She smiled against his neck when she discovered that his nipples got hard, too.

Moving her hand down again, she traced her fingers over the hip lines she’d drooled over earlier. She felt a small shiver move through him. The vibrations of the motor traveling up through the seat added to the tingling between her legs, and she rolled her hips forward to increase the stimulation on her clit. Could he tell what she was doing? Did it matter? She was past the point of shame.

She let her hand brush against the front of his pants and felt a new surge of lust when she felt how much he wanted her. When she went for his belt buckle, she heard him say, “You’re gonna kill the both of us.” But he didn’t slow down and neither did she. Belt unbuckled, fly unbuttoned, boxer shorts pushed aside, and she had her hand on his erection. She squeezed it and it jumped. She felt more than heard his moan. She could feel his breathing go fast as she rubbed her thumb against the head of his cock, feeling the slickness of pre-cum. It felt huge, and she imagined how it would feel inside of her. She stopped pressing herself against the seat and spread her legs wider, moving forward to rub herself on his lower back. She could tell he knew what she was doing by the way his cock jerked again.

They were speeding along with no protection whatsoever. One tiny error and they would both be dead. Delia felt no fear at all, just lust and euphoria and a feeling that this was exactly where she was meant to be, exactly what she was meant to be doing. Her hand was slick with his juices now, and she pumped his cock, putting her ear against his neck so she could hear the purring noises he made deep in his throat. Could she make him come while they were still riding? What would happen if he did?

The air grew heavier just before rain started pouring down in sheets. Visibility dropped to nearly zero. There was a moment when oblivion seemed imminent, but Merle successfully slowed the Triumph and pulled onto the shoulder of the road. For a time they stayed there, panting, as the rain washed over them, the cool water a contrast to the heat of his hard-on.

Merle dismounted, then grabbed her left leg, lifting it so both her legs were on the same side of the seat. He stepped between them, pressing his hardness against her as his mouth covered hers. It was a kiss like she’d never experienced before, hard and demanding and nearly painful. Her hands roamed the hard expanse of his back as he sucked her tongue into his mouth. The rain stopped as abruptly as it started.

Merle pulled back just far enough that they could see each other’s faces in the moonlight. He stared straight into her eyes as he reached under her dress with both hands and slowly, deliberately tore her underpants. He flung the tiny, lacy rag on the ground and skimmed his hands lightly up the insides of her thighs. One of his thumbs traced the outline of her slit, and she shivered. He easily slid a finger inside. He smirked. “You’re all ready for me, aren’t you?” He pulled his finger out and put it to his mouth, licking her juices off.

Never looking away from her, he moved his pants down to the tops of his thighs. He grasped his cock and used the head to tease her, running it up and down her slit, then rubbing it against her clit. Her eyes closed and she tilted her head back. “Oh no, honey. You’re gonna look at me the whole time." 

He cradled the back of her head with one hand so she couldn’t turn away. Even in the dark she could see how flushed his face was, and the beads of rain and sweat that rolled down it. His eyes bored into hers as he continued to stroke her swollen nubbin. "You ready to come for me, darlin’?” he asked softly. And she was.

It was a series of sharp explosions that jerked her hips and made her whimper. Before her orgasm subsided, he thrust himself inside her to the hilt. He still held her gaze as he pumped her slowly, one hand gripping her butt cheek. “Say my name,” he growled.

“Merle,” she gasped. “Oh,  _god_ , Merle.”

“You like it?”

“Yes. Yes, I love it.”

He grinned wickedly. “Tell me exactly what it is you love.”

“I love you inside me. Oh, god.”

“You love my what inside you? And say my name.”

“Merle, I love the way your cock feels inside me.” She did, she did. She loved how slow he was going because it allowed her to feel every inch of him inside her. She hated how slow he was going because she wanted  _more, more_. She clutched at his ass and growled.

Merle’s tongue did that lip-flicking move. “I think you’re gonna love this even more.” He hooked an arm under one of her legs, putting her knee over his shoulder. With the new angle, the head of his erection hit a place inside she’d never known she’d had, and she let out a shuddering moan. He experimented with his thrusts, finding that exact spot and moving back and forth across it. Delia knew that another orgasm was approaching by the shivery tingle at the base of her spine. What Merle was doing to her was such a sweet torture that she wanted to hold off so she could experience it longer, but, oh,  _fuck_ , she couldn’t. It moved over her like a smooth wave, starting off small and then growing, growing, catching her entire body in its roll. She let out an exhalation that sounded like a song.

Merle started thrusting in earnest, the fingers of his hand winding through her hair and tightening, pulling just hard enough to hurt a little. His mouth opened wide and greedy as he shuddered against her. She felt the hot rush of his seed inside her as he moaned gutterally.

His head dropped to her shoulder as he caught his breath. “My god, Princess,” he rasped.

Delia couldn’t stifle a giggle. “After that, I’m still Princess?”

“Always.” He lifted his head and nipped lightly at her lips. Kissing him now was soft, calm, gentle.

“I can’t believe you tore off my panties.”

“C'mon, darlin’, you have to admit that was hot.”

She smiled against his mouth. “It was. But they were expensive. I boosted them from Victoria’s Secret.”

“I’ll get you more.” They kissed again, deeper but still gentle.

A car sped by, a man hollering out the window. “Owwwoooo, get some, yeaaaaaaaaaah!”

It was a rude reminder that they were right next to the road, half-naked and entwined for anyone to see. Merle laughed as he pulled up his pants. Mortified, Delia arranged her soggy dress. “I really don’t want my first arrest to be for public indecency.”

“But you do plan on gettin’ arrested in the future? My kind of girl.”

“Well, I am a McPhee. I guess there’s no fighting your DNA.”

“So, you wanna go back to the party?” Merle got back on the Triumph.

Delia snugged herself behind him. “Hell, no. Let’s just keep riding.”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere but here.”

 

**Part 2: Fire Meet Gasoline**

 

Merle parked his truck in a stretch of new construction. "Maybe you should walk from here, babe. This truck’ll stick out like a baboon’s ass in that neighborhood.”

Delia hopped out and grabbed a fancy gold gift bag of the sort that usually was used for wine. In her flowing, peacock-print mini dress and the shoes she’d lifted from Nordstrom, she could pass as someone who belonged in the prosperous suburban streets that she traversed.

The address written on her hand belonged to a McMansion that had consumed nearly all of the lot that it sat on. The door was open, letting out shouted conversations and strains of Rihanna, and Delia walked in. “Where’s Charity?” she asked a boy, holding up the gift bag.

“Suh-weet!” He made a grab.

“Not until I get paid.” She put the bag behind her back.

“Oh, come on, be nice to me.” He put one hand on her waist and tried to reach around her with the other.

Delia narrowed her eyes and said coldly, “I’ll have my boyfriend be nice to you. He might only break your arm, if you’re lucky.”

The boy held his hands up in mock surrender. “Jesus, you don’t have to be such a bitch. Charity’s in the kitchen playing quarters.”

The hostess handed Delia a roll of bills. As she tucked it into her push-up bra, she heard a familiar screech. “Oh my Gooooooood, is that really Delia McPhee?”  _For fuck’s sake_. It was Angel, her ex-dormmate. “You’re a drug dealer now? Oh my Goooooooood, that’s hilarious!”

“You do drugs now, Angel? Little Miss Suburban Princess?”

“You’re wearing my dress, White Trash Barbie,” Angel sneered.

“You want it back? Fine!” Delia pulled the dress over her head and threw it in Angel’s face. She stalked out of the house in just her baby-blue bra and thong set. And realized that she was going to have to walk six blocks in her underwear. So much for blending in.  _Fine_. She raised her head and pretended she was a contestant on ‘America’s Next Top Model’ stomping down the runway.

After two and a half blocks a familiar blue truck pulled up next to her. Merle whistled. “How much to party with you, darlin’?”

“How much you got, sailor?”

“Why don’t you get in here and feel how big my wad is?”

Delia laughed and climbed in, sliding up next to Merle and putting her hand on his crotch as he deftly scooped the cash out of her bra. “Ooh, it’s biiiig,” she cooed, “Maybe I’ll give you a freebie.” She felt his erection nudging against her hand. “What kind of party do you want?” She undid his pants and pulled out his cock. “For real, though, I hardly touched you and you’re huge already.” Stroking its hot length while other cars passed them was getting her turned on. She’d heard other girls talk about how ugly dicks were, but Delia loved looking at Merle’s, especially when it was thick and purple like it was now.

“I wish I had that on video, you strutting down the street like the fuckin’ queen of the world in your underwear. You probably made the boys at that party jizz in their pants.” He sucked in his breath as she spread his pre-cum around the head of his cock with her thumb. They were in a commercial area now, and at a red light they stopped next to a semi truck. The driver gaped at them from his cab.

Delia took one of Merle’s hands off of the steering wheel and brought it to her mouth. Her tongue flicked the tip of one of his fingers and his cock throbbed in sympathy. She moved her head forward, sinking his finger between her lips, and began to hum along to the Johnny Cash song playing on the radio. “You’re gonna kill me,” Merle rasped.

The red light changed to green, and Merle turned onto the highway. Delia’s head bobbed as she sucked his finger. She squeezed his erection in the same rhythm, enjoying the sound of his hoarse breathing.  He was beginning to roll his hips back and forth. With a final lick, she released his finger and put her lips right up against his ear. “What would you like me to use my mouth on next?”

Delia recognized the expression on Merle’s face, the gritted jaw, the glazed eyes, the muscle twitching in his cheek. He was trying not to come too soon. She loved this power that she had, to push him to the edge of losing control. “You put that pretty mouth on my cock,” he said hoarsely.

The truck was going twenty over the speed limit as she bent down. She could taste the salt from his juices as she wrapped her lips around his thickness. She took him in as deeply as she could, then drew back up to circle the ridge around the head of his erection with her tongue. Merle put a hand on the back of her head and let out a string of oh-gods and oh-fucks. As she took him in deep again, sucking hard, she noticed that the song that had just started playing on the radio was Dolly Parton’s 'Here You Come Again’. The vibrations of her laughter were what pushed Merle over the edge. The truck swerved as he cried out, filling her mouth with his seed.

Horns blared and tires shrieked on the pavement as Merle fought to get the truck back under control. “We really are gonna die if we keep doing this shit,” he panted.

Delia wiped the corners of her mouth. She had swallowed all of his cum. That was what a woman who truly loved her man did. “So we’ll die together.” She cuddled up next to him. “You know, it seems like every time we go out, I lose a dress.”

“I’ll buy you all the dresses you want, baby girl.”

Delia and Merle had been together for two months.

 

  
Delia returned home three days after her 'welcome home’ party. She was wearing an old, oversized Judas Priest shirt and boxers safety-pinned at the waist so they wouldn’t fall off. Her lips were swollen from kissing, her cheeks were red from whisker-burn, and she was walking a bit bow-legged. Her mother looked at her and shook her head. “If your father was in his right mind, he’d horsewhip Merle.” Delia shrugged. “Please tell me you used protection.” Delia said nothing, and her mother made an aggravated-sounding grunt. “I don’t want to be taking care of no Dixon babies, you hear me?”

“What are you so upset about? He’s your friend.”

“Yeah, and I know him as well as anyone can. I know he ain’t grown up, not really. He’s a permanent sixteen-year-old. He just goes with whatever wild-ass impulse that goes through his brain without ever thinkin’ that there might be consequences. And I know that’s he’s damaged goods. You seen him naked now. Where do you think he got them scars? Did you ask?”

“He told me he was in an accident.”

Her mother snorted. “Accident, my ass. Will Dixon is a goddamned demon. That evil old man never showed that boy a moment’s kindness. I seen him beat Merle bloody with the buckle end of a belt more than once. He wanted Merle to beg him to stop, but Merle was always so stubborn.”

Delia felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. She could imagine it all too well. She’d seen little-boy Merle’s face in all of her mother’s elementary school class photos, with a gap-toothed grin and a headful of dark curly hair. Merle had told her that those were the only pictures that existed of him as a kid, a thought that made the tears squeeze their way out and roll down her cheeks.

“Oh, for–-now you’re thinkin’ that you’ll be the one who fixes him, aren’t you? Women been trying to save him from himself ever since he grew peach fuzz. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.”

“You just don’t understand,” Delia wailed. She ran to her bedroom and pulled the curtain shut behind her, wishing that she had a door to slam. She began jamming her clothes into a duffle bag. She was moving in with Merle.

 

It was Saturday night and the party they had been to was shut down early by the cops. Both still a little high, they weren’t ready for bed yet. Merle turned on some classic rock and lit up a joint. “I like this song,” Delia said when she heard the sleazy beat of Foghat’s 'Slow Ride.’ “It makes me feel sexy.” She started circling her hips, shimmying her shoulders. Merle was sprawled on the couch, watching her avidly, and she slowly raised her skirt up her thighs. “You want to see more?”

Merle nodded and licked his lips. Delia slid her skirt off, letting it fall to the floor, leaving her in just her shirt, boots, and sheer, lacy underpants. The way his eyes devoured her made her hot. “Now the shirt,” he said. Delia could see the bulge in the front of his pants as she unbuttoned her top slowly and shrugged it off. “Now the bra.” She unhooked her bra and placed her hands on the cups, leaning forward so the straps  went down her arms. She looked up at Merle slyly. “You let me see those titties right now.” She peeled the cups away from her breasts, the tips growing hard under his gaze. “Touch your nipples. Stroke 'em.” He sucked in his breath when she complied, circling them the way he often did with his tongue. “Now the panties.” Now she was naked except for her harness boots. For a moment, Merle just stared at her, his face damp and flushed. His hand moved to his bulge, squeezing it. She felt so wet and swollen and hot between her legs. “Touch yourself for me,” he ordered.

Delia’s cheeks burned. She had never considered doing something so private while someone else watched, but she did it anyway, sliding a finger into her own wetness.

“Show me how you touch yourself to get yourself off. You ever do that while thinking about me?” he asked hoarsely.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Did you make yourself come?”

“Yes.”

Merle let out a moan. “Oh, sweet Jesus, you are too much, darlin’.” He watched her fingers move for a little longer, his breathing rapid. “Get over here.”

Delia walked slowly toward the couch. Merle grabbed her by her buttocks and shoved his face into her groin. “I am gonna to fuck you so hard.”

Delia shoved him back on the couch, breaking his hold on her. She grinned at him wickedly. “You have to catch me first!” She dashed out the front door.

Merle whooped with laughter. “You crazy bitch!” She could hear him crashing through the underbrush as he chased her through the woods. After a couple of minutes, she slowed down, making a whole lot more noise than she needed to. She wanted to be caught, of course. “Got you!” Merle seized her around the waist and hoisted her up on one shoulder, spinning her around until she shrieked. Then he wrestled her to the ground and pulled her over his lap. The first smack on her bottom made her squeal.

This was not at all like being spanked as a kid. Merle hit with just enough force to sting a little but not to actually hurt. He aimed low on her ass so that the vibrations traveled through her already-sensitized pussy. He shoved two of the fingers of his other hand in Delia’s mouth and she sucked on them greedily. When the spanking stopped, she whined a little, raising her butt up like a cat in heat.

Merle set her on the ground. “Get on all fours. Now spread your legs,” he panted. He knelt behind her and Delia heard his zipper. He gripped her hips tightly and slammed her against him, impaling her. He had never fucked her so ferociously before. His fingers left bruises on her skin as he pounded into her. “You like this? Huh?”

“I love it,” she gasped. God, she loved it, this nearly unbearable mix of pain and pleasure, this sheer animal lust. Her orgasm ripped through her like a bolt of lightning.

They had been together for three months.  
  


 

Delia returned home from an afternoon at the salon and Daryl was still sleeping face-down on the ugly plaid couch with his boots on, oblivious to Merle putting together a Wal-Mart bookshelf a mere four feet away. Well, she had been warned that the two brothers were a package deal. She grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and sat down on Daryl’s back. “Nnnnnnnggg?” he groaned into the cushion.

“I wanna watch Judge Judy. You sleep a lot. Are you a bear? Are you going into hibernation?” She crossed her legs and bounced.

Daryl raised his head a couple of inches. “Merle, get your woman under control.”

“Sweetheart, you wanna bounce on something, get on my dick,” Merle chortled.

Daryl made a noise of disgust. “ _Stop_.” He rocked from side to side, sending Delia crashing into the coffee table.

“Babe, you wanna stop causing trouble and get started on dinner?” Merle asked.

Delia pouted. “But Judge Judy.”

“I’m hungry,” he snapped, throwing a piece of particle board across the room hard enough to dent the wall. “I been puttin’ furniture together for you all damn day, so could you just do one little thing for me? Huh?” He glared at her.

Without saying a word, she stomped into the kitchen. It was small, not much more than a galley. The venison roast was already sitting in its pan in the refrigerator. It was most definitely not deer hunting season, but Daryl was skilled at not getting caught poaching.

Delia was peeling potatoes when Merle pressed up behind her, sliding his strong arms around her waist. He knew she loved to be held this way, leaning back against his broad torso. Light, nibbling kisses moved along her neck and jawline.  "Sorry I yelled, sweetheart.“

"It’s okay.” She enjoyed the gentle caresses and kisses, his fingers running across her neck and collarbones, tracing the whorls of her ears, running down her sides, and nearly touching her breasts. The back of her dress was lifted up, and her panties were tugged down. “Merle! Your brother’s in the next room.”

“He fell back asleep.” A hand gently stroked that sensitive area where buttock turned into thigh.  It gave her a pleasantly shivery feeling. “You’re so soft right there. And there.” The hand caressed the insides of her thighs, then moved back to her ass. A finger touched between her cheeks, brushing the one place on her body where Merle hadn’t been yet. Merle chuckled at the startled squeak she made. “Not today, but I’ll be inside there, too, darlin’. You belong to me now.”

His fingers moved forward into more familiar territory, then paused as he realized that the terrain had changed. “What’s this?”

“I got a wax today. It’s still a little tender.”

Merle’s fingertips skimmed lightly across her now-hairless flesh, the new sensations making her shiver. “Mmmm, so soft,” he purred into her ear. He traced her slit slowly, front to back. “And you’re all wet,” he murmured. One finger slipped inside her, then another. “And tight and hot.” The fingers worked inside her slowly. “I’m gonna make you come.” Delia moaned, and Merle put his other hand across her mouth. He curled the fingers inside her into a hook and went to work on her g-spot, laughing at her muffled whimpers. She screamed into his hand as her orgasm ripped through her.

He held her with one arm while he slowly licked his fingers clean; otherwise, she would have slid to the floor. “Now be a good girl and finish dinner.” He released her and slapped her bottom.

Delia and Merle had been together for five months.  
  


 

Delia was woken up by a warm, bare body nestling behind her on the bed and kisses on the back of her neck. “Where the hell have you been?” she asked testily. Merle had been gone for weeks.

“Got myself in a little bit of a bind. Don’t worry your pretty head over it, it’s all good now.”

“Don’t you know how to use your phone?”

In reply, he rolled her over on her back. He started kissing her again, soft kisses starting at her hairline and moving down to her mouth. His hands lifted her tee shirt and lightly caressed her breasts.

She let out a small sigh when he circled his tongue around her nipples, making them erect. He skimmed off her panties and moved between her legs and kissed his way up the inside of one thigh. His tongue traced the crease where her leg met her body, just his breath touching her where she began to ache so sweetly. He moved to her other thigh and nipped lightly, then pushed her knees up for better access to her ass, biting at the fleshy parts. It was a small, sweet kind of pain that made her moan. He licked along the cleft of her buttocks, finding every sensitive place.

Easing her hips back down, he spread her thighs wider. Grinning up at her, he growled, “I’m gonna eat that sweet pussy. I’m gonna suck on your clit until you beg for mercy.” He lowered his face, just breathing on her tender flesh as he spread her open with his fingers. She made an impatient noise, and she could feel his laughter, hot puffs of air teasing her. Reaching down, she gave his head a shove in the right direction.

The velvety feel of his tongue stroking her folds was heaven. “Mmmmmm…” He found her clit and tapped it with the tip of his tongue, making her jerk her hips. Then he did exactly as he had promised, sucking on her little nubbin, softly at first, then increasing the intensity. She felt the little shivers along the base of her spine that meant she was close to climax.

So did he. He lifted his head and smirked at her. “Not yet, darlin’.”

“You’re an asshole,” she groaned as he went back to slow, soft licking. The agonizing bliss continued, with Merle stopping and starting, until she couldn’t take it any more. Growling with frustration, she shoved his head down with both hands and shamelessly rubbed herself on his face.

“Jesus!” Merle extricated himself from her grip laughing, his face glistening from her juices. He moved up and rolled over on his back. There was enough moonlight coming through the window to illuminate his body in all its masculine glory, the muscles covered with soft, light hair and the rampant, wet-tipped cock. The criss-crossing scars were lighter than the rest of his skin, with a silvery sheen to them. Delia straddled Merle and grasped his erection, feeling its velvety heat pulsing in her hand. She moaned as she sank down onto its length. “That’s right, baby. You just use me however you want.”

Merle bent his arms up at the elbows so Delia could grab his hands and use them for leverage. Delia rode him hard, rocking the bed so that it banged hard against the wall with every thrust. Merle was trying to act cool and in control, but the dazed look in his eyes and the way his mouth fell open gave him away. Oh, no, there was no way she was going to let him come first. She pulled one of his hands toward her and he knew exactly what she wanted. His fingers on her clit set her off with one touch, shaking and bucking and wailing. She could feel herself pulsing and squeezing around Merle’s hardness, the way his cock surged forward and filled her with gushing heat as he threw his head back and cried out.

Delia collapsed on top of Merle and he wrapped his arms around him. “I’m still mad at you,” she whispered.

They had been together for ten months.

**Part 3: He Darked the Sun**

 

 

Merle was out of town for a few days with Daryl, doing who knew what. Delia knew better than to ask questions. The trailer in the woods was creepy when she was all alone and she had invited her best friends from high school over for a grown-up slumber party. Girly drinks were served. Nails were painted. The new Beyoncé song was played over and over again. “I can’t listen to this when Merle’s home,” Delia told her friends. “He calls it jungle music. Well,  _now_  he calls it jungle music. He used to call it something worse.”

“I still think it’s weird that you’re with such an old guy.”

“Ashley, you hypocrite, I caught you trying to give Daryl a blowjob.”

“I was trying to find my earring!”

“In his zipper?”

“And he’s not as old as Merle.”

“Whatever. Slut.” Delia picked up a pillow and tossed it in Ashley’s face. This started an all-out pillow war. Delia was perched on the back of the couch, breathless from laughter while she tried to fend off all three of her friends, when she saw the silhouette in the dark kitchen. “Merle?”

He stepped forward into the light. A man-sized boy, around fifteen or so. The lines of his face were familiar, as were the deep-set blue eyes. He was carrying a wadded-up plastic bag in one hand. “Which one of you is my dad’s new ho?”

“Who the hell are you?” Delia demanded.

“Merle Junior.” He stepped back into the kitchen, flicking on the light. He opened the refrigerator and started rummaging through it.

“What are you doing?”

“Got no food at home.” He stuffed packages of lunch meat into his bag, along with a carton of orange juice and a brick of cheddar cheese. “You can keep the possum.”

“I bought that food!”

“Where’d you get the money?” He grabbed a carton of eggs. “My mom says you better not get pregnant because my dad’ll drop you in a second, don’t matter how cute you are.” He gave Delia a long, measuring look. The boy’s eyes were far too hard for his age. “But she says a lot of stuff when she’s drunk.” When he left, he didn’t bother to close the fridge door.

“Wow,  _rude_ ,” Ashley said.

Delia and Merle had been together for ten months.

 

 

“This isn’t fucking fair. Tell me what’s wrong.” Merle just glared at her from across the room. He hadn’t spoken to her since they’d gotten home from a barbecue at her parents’ house yesterday.  _My god, can that man look mean_ , Delia thought. “I didn’t do anything! Why are you like this?”

Daryl came in, carrying a couple of rabbits by the ears. “You gonna wiggle your scrawny ass for my brother, too?” Merle barked. Daryl spun on his heel and vanished back out through the door.

“What are you talking about?”

Merle jumped up off the couch and stalked toward her. “I’m sick of this Little Miss Innocent act. I saw you yesterday with those boys.”

“I went to school with them. I was just talking.”

He was nose to nose with her. He’d been drinking since noon yesterday; the smell of whiskey wasn’t just on his breath, it came out of his pores. “Just talkin’ and laughin’ and flirtin’ and shakin’ your tits at them. I’m not enough for you anymore? You want some twenty-year-old two-pump chump?”

“Jesus, Merle! Stop it!”

He backed her up to a wall and put his hands on either side of her shoulders. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, little girl. You just usin’ me because you flunked out of college and you got nothin’ else goin’ on? Eatin’ my food, smokin’ my weed, drinkin’ my beer, spendin’ my money. You just a little whore?”

The word was like a punch in the gut. Without thinking, she slapped him hard across the face. His face turned demonic, flushing deep red with a vein pulsing in his forehead. For the first time in her life, Delia was frightened of Merle Dixon. She ducked down to escape the cage of his arms.

“Get back here, you little bitch!” he shouted. She headed for the outside door, but he moved surprisingly fast, blocking it with his body. Delia dashed into the bedroom and slammed the door, trying to jam a chair under the doorknob like she’d seen people do in the movies. Merle just crashed right through the flimsy plywood. She crouched on the bed, trapped and terrified. As he moved closer, she lifted her chin defiantly, but she couldn’t stop herself from sobbing.

Merle paused at the foot of the bed. A shadow hid his expression, but Delia could hear him breathing raggedly. What was he going to do to her? How badly would it hurt? How the fuck had everything gone so wrong so fast? She flung herself back against the headboard when he lunged for her.

He grabbed her upper arm and jerked her forward so that she fell against him hard. His mouth covered hers in rough, hungry kisses. Her fists beat at his shoulders but he didn’t let her go. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered in her ear. “When I think about losing you, it makes me crazy.”

“But you aren’t losing me!”

He drew back and wiped her tears away with surprising gentleness, the rage entirely drained out of him. “Forgive me, baby?” He laid on the bed, pulling her down with him and wrapping her in his arms, stroking her back as she cried it out.

“You scared me,” she sniffled.

“It won’t happen again. I swear to God, baby. You know I love you.”

They had been together for eleven months. It would happen again.  
  


 

 

Delia swore under her breath and started walking fast. Please don’t let her see me, please don’t let her see me. “Delia Mae McPhee!” her mother bellowed out of the door of the 7-Eleven, “Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

“I’m in a hurry, Mom.”

“Gotta get back on the pole, huh?”

Delia stopped and spun around to face her mother. “Do we have to have this argument in public?”

Her mother waved a hand, indicating all the curious onlookers in the convenience store parking lot. “What’s it matter? Whole town knows you’re strippin’.” Her mother’s face crumpled a little. “I know we weren’t no Brady Bunch type family, but I didn’t think I’d raise a daughter who would do… that.”

“Mom, it’s no big deal. We just have some bills to pay off and then I’ll stop.”

“You tell Merle he’s not welcome at my house no more. Him livin’ off the money you make with your ass like he’s a-–like he’s a pimp.” Her mother’s voice broke on the last words, and she walked away without looking back.

_Goddamn this town and all the nosey, gossiping pissants in it_ , Delia said to herself as she got back into her car without ever going in the store. It was just a short-term thing. Merle had gotten burned on a deal and needed a lot of money fast, the kind you can’t get working at Wal-Mart. Dancing up on stage wasn’t that bad, and she could tolerate giving lap dances after a few puffs of the nice sativa that one of Merle’s friends grew.

It was just a temporary setback. Merle had promised Delia that they would get married once the money situation was straightened out.

They had been together for thirteen months.  
  


 

 

The nurse gazed at Delia sympathetically. “Do you know what your plans are? I can give you information on your options.”

Delia’s mouth was so dry that she had to peel her tongue from the roof of her mouth before she could speak. “I’m getting married.”

“Oh, how nice. Well, here is a list of OB/GYNs you can go to for prenatal check-ups. If I were you, I’d get in as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.” Outside the women’s clinic, the sun was shining hot, dazzling Delia’s eyes. Oh, God. Oh,  _God_ , she was going to have a baby when she could barely take care of herself. Suddenly, she wanted her mother.

When she got home, Merle was stretched out on the couch in nothing but his boxers. He greeted her with a goofy smile, and his pupils seemed to take up all of his eyes. “Hey, baby, where you been? I missed you.” He stretched his arms out to her and she joined him on the couch, the two of them laying snugged together on their sides, face to face. Staring at her as if she were the most fascinating thing he’d ever encountered, he stroked her hair.

“Remember when you said that we were getting married?”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s going to happen, right?”

“Of course, baby, I’ll marry you tomorrow.” He ran his fingers gently over her face, as if committing it to memory. “I love you so much.”

“I mean, it has to be soon. I’m going to have a baby. I’m almost three months along.”

“A baby. You’re having a baby. That’s–-that’s beautiful.” He rose up on one elbow and grinned down at her. “Really beautiful.”

“It’s your baby, too, you big doofus.”

“Yeah, it is. My baby. I’m having a baby with you.” He sounded awestruck.

Delia stared into those dark, dilated eyes. “Merle, are you on molly?”

“Molly who?” He was touching her again, exploring her body like he’d never seen it before; removing her clothes carefully, as if he was unpacking fine china. Reverently, he kissed her belly.

Boxers shed, he laid down next to her again and pulled her top leg over his hip. When he was inside her, they slowly rocked together. This wasn’t at all their usual frantic fucking; this was making love. Her climax was a long, slow rippling, and she made a sound that was close to singing.

“Beautiful,” Merle murmured, and Delia agreed.

And it was, until the molly wore off. They had been together for fourteen months.  
  


 

Merle was nowhere to be found when the time came and Delia’s mother was the one who held her hand while she sweated and strained and screamed. After eleven and a half hours, she had a red, squirming bundle set on her chest, a healthy boy who grunted as he rooted around hoping to find a nipple. He had a shock of dark hair and a port wine birthmark on his butt. He was perfection itself.

As soon as she was fit for visitors, Daryl came in. “Can I hold him?” He beamed as he looked down at his new nephew’s squashed-looking face. “I think you should call him Li’l Son of a Bitch.” He gave Delia a sly look.

“How about Li’l Nephew of a Flaming A-Hole?”

“Nah. Not catchy. You’re not very good at this.” He playfully tugged at the tiny fist that was wrapped around one of his fingers. “You know you can’t name him Merle Junior, right? There’s already two of them.”

“Maybe I should name him after you, since you’re the one that helped me fix up a room for the baby and everything.”

“Don’t be stirrin’ up trouble, now.”

 

  
Three days after Delia left the hospital, Merle finally showed up. He looked sheepish, his shoulders hunched like he was waiting for a blow. He nodded jerkily at Delia’s mother. “Hey, Brenda.” He stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, looking in the general direction of the baby. “What’s its name?”

“Finn.”

“Huh. Finn Dixon.”

“Finn McPhee.” Delia glared at Merle challengingly. “If you wanted your baby to be a Dixon, you should have married me like you said you were going to.”

Merle seemed to deflate. For the first time, he looked old to Delia. He opened his mouth, tried to figure out what to do with his hands, grimaced. “I gotta go,” he muttered as he turned to leave.

Delia threw her What to _Expect When You’re Expecting_ book at Merle’s retreating back and screamed in rage when she missed, waking Finn from his nap. As the door slammed, both she and the baby burst into angry tears. “I hate him so much!”

Her mother rubbed circles on her back, like she did back when Delia was little. “Oh, baby girl, only someone you love can make you that crazy.”

“Why is he like this?” Delia sobbed as she tried to quell Finn’s astonishingly loud squalling.

“Can’t you tell he’s terrified? He don’t know how to be a daddy because he never really had one. He knows how to be Uncle Merle, but he never knew what to do with his own flesh and blood. He’s probably afraid that he’ll hurt them the way he was hurt.”

Delia considered this as she wiped away her tears. “You think he can change?”

“Maybe. But you know what they say about old dogs and new tricks.”

 

  
Brenda McPhee shook her head as she took in the sorry sight on her front porch. “Every time I see you, you’re cryin’.”

“I got nowhere else to go, Mama. Merle’s been gone for two months and the landlord kicked us out of the trailer.” Delia left out the fact that she was evicted because the trailer’s owner found a small meth-making operation about forty feet in the surrounding woods; Brenda McPhee would not react well to finding out that dangerous, volatile chemicals had been that close to her precious grandbaby.

Brenda closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.“Christ. Where the hell is that idiot?”

“I don’t know. Daryl sometimes stops by and gives me some money, but he won’t tell me nothin’.”

“Well, it’s gonna get crowded with a baby, but I guess I’ll just have to make it work.” Brenda held out her arms. “Hand over that beautiful boy.” Finn was a little over a year old, with his father’s curly hair, his uncle’s eyes, and Delia’s freckle-prone skin. He was happy most of the time, but when he wasn’t, he let the entire world know with shockingly loud, gravelly screams. Brenda settled him on one hip, cooing to him as she carried him into the house.

_This is it_ , Delia said to herself. _This is the rest of my life. A single mom living with my parents._ She saw her future as a straight line, no surprises, no deviations. Not at all what she had hoped for, but she supposed it could be worse.

 

**Part 4: Fire and Rain**

 

Delia stared at her ringing phone in disbelief as Merle’s picture popped up on the screen. “Hello?” Her voice was small.

“Baby, where are you? I went to your folks’ house and no one was there.” Merle sounded frantic. “Are you alright? And Finn?”

“I’m in the city. I was visiting a friend when things… went bad.”

“Are you somewhere safe?”

“I think so. We’re on the second floor of a boarded-up house. But we don’t have food and there’s not much water. And it’s-–it’s just me and Finn now.”

“You stay there until you see someone in a uniform, you hear me? National Guard, Army, police. Otherwise, you stay put. I’m comin’ down to find you.”

“Bu–but you’ve been gone for almost half a year.”

For a moment, all she heard was his breathing. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve put you through, baby. Things are going to change.”

“Why, Merle? Why now?”

“Because I seen some bad, bad things go down. It made me think about what’s really important in life, and… It’s you and Finn.” His voice choked up and he paused again. “I’m tired of bein‘ a piece of shit. You two are my last chance to be a good man. I love you, Delia.” He let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “That’s the first time I ever said that stone cold sober. But it was true every time I said it.”

Delia had told herself months ago that she was done crying over this man. She was wrong. “I love you, too, Merle. Please come find us. I’m so scared.”

“Just tell me where to find you.” Just seconds after she told him, the call was cut off. There were no bars on her phone screen. Cell phone service was down, never to return.

 

 

  
There was a gap between the boards on one window where Delia could look out without being seen and she settled there with Finn to watch for uniforms. So much noise… gunfire, explosions, screams.

Loud growling was coming from a man with a knife sticking out of his chest. He was covered in blood and walking like he didn’t see anything in front of him. A car swerved down the street, tires squealing, and hit the man, severing him in two. The top half of his body began to crawl on its elbows.

A woman with disheveled gray hair and wearing only a dirty pink nightie held up a hand-lettered sign that said 'Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.’ “This is what we get,” she screamed, “for allowing sodomites and fornicators and whores to dwell among us!” The severed man inched toward her and chomped on her ankle, and the woman didn’t stop her ranting for even a second.

A gang of howling teen-aged boys swarmed the street, smashing windows with baseball bats. One of them swung at the old woman’s head, connecting with a sickening wet crunch. A large man came out of an alley, his head flopping as if his neck were broken; he fell upon one of the boys and started eating the boy’s face.

This was madness. It was like living inside one of those Renaissance paintings of Hell that Delia had seen in a library book.  _Please_ , she said to the universe,  _please_. She hugged Finn a little too hard, but he was so lethargic from the heat and stuffiness inside the condemned house that he did no more than whine a little.

Night fell. The minutes and hours crawled by, filled with the sounds of the damned. When dawn crept in, her eyes were raw from lack of sleep. The rest of the day felt like a fever dream. Just as the afternoon light was beginning to dim, she saw the second most beautiful thing she could imagine: the National Guard.  
  


 

The camp was crowded and noisy and short on supplies, but Delia got enough water to quench their thirst and a jar of applesauce for Finn. There weren’t any unoccupied cots, so Delia settled down in a corner, placed Finn on her stomach, and fell asleep right on the ground.

Screams, gunfire, feral snarling. She jumped to her feet, Finn in her arms, and strained her eyes in the dark. “What’s happening?” she cried out, but no one answered her. Shadows ran past her. Some of them fell and were trampled by other shadows.

A hand clamped onto her upper arm. “I know a way out,” a woman whispered. She led Delia to a hole in the fence. A few other people followed. “Where should we head now?”

“Nowhere with that baby,” a man said. “Kid starts crying and who knows what it’ll attract.”

“I’m not leaving my baby!” Delia said fiercely.

“Guess your own your own, then.” 

 

By the next afternoon, Delia was following a train track out of Atlanta, hoping that it would be less traveled than a road. The country seemed like the best place to be. In the distance, she could see the massive traffic jam on the freeway, with ant-sized people leaving their vehicles and heading into the city. She prayed Merle wasn’t one of them.

She pressed on till dark, ignoring how heavy Finn was in her arms, and found a shed to spend the night in. The sound of the planes drew her outside again, and she saw the devouring, cleansing fire falling from the sky. She and Finn watched the flames silently, two tiny points in a vast, unfriendly world.

**Epilogue**

 

Merle dropped the lit cigarette on the hummock of dry grass, watching it crisp and blacken. It was kindling-dry, and soon the flames licked the toe of his right boot. He watched with detached interest. He had been hit with a pain so big that he could no longer feel anything at all.  _Ashes._   _Nothing but ashes._

“Merle.” Daryl’s voice was thick with emotion.

Standing up and stepping back from the spreading fire, Merle said, “Just let it burn. Let it all fuckin’ burn." 


End file.
